


Failsafe

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Light Angst, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis knows what’s in the contract.





	Failsafe

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noct is an unbound omega whoa also happens to be the crown prince. It would be very, very bad if the enemy got their hands on him and managed to bond him to one of them. He'd belong to them forever. So there's an 'In Case of Emergency: Bite' clause in Gladio or Ignis' contract. Meant as a last resort, because of its permanence. My preference is for it to be Gladio, but Ignis is also a great option. Noct can be aware or unaware of this clause, up to you.” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=8236334#cmt8236334).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Somehow, they make it back to the Regalia, all of them sweaty and _wrecked_ , clothes torn and a mix of caked dirt and blood smeared everywhere. Noctis’ skull still stings from where a rogue MT got him by the hair before Prompto shot it down. They’re all a sight for sore eyes, but they’re all _alive_ , and that’s what matters. As Ignis’ long fingers slip around the handle of the driver’s seat door, he quietly notes across the car, eyes on Gladiolus: “That was close.”

Noctis’ hung head snaps up just in time to see Gladiolus give a solemn but disgruntled nod. He knows exactly what they’re talking about. That _was_ close— _too close_ —and Gladiolus should’ve bitten him.

He grits his teeth and looks away, sinking down into the familiar comfort of his seat. Prompto drops into the passenger’s side, slumped and unsuspecting. Noctis’ sure no one has told him, because there’s no reason to— _Noctis_ wouldn’t even know if Gladiolus hadn’t taken him aside one day and bitterly shoved the shield’s contract into his hands. At least he had time to soak it in. To properly seethe, then get over it. And it seemed so far away, so unlikely and remote, while they were still safely in Insomnia.

Now, out on the road, with Magitek soldiers crawling the proverbial walls, it’s all too likely that the enemy will get their hands on him. Then, before it’s too late, before the Imperials get an unbound omega prince to do with what they like, his shield will have to grab him, pin him down, and bite a bruising mark into his throat so hard that the Imperials could never overcome it. If he has to be taken captive, better to do it bonded, even if that mate dies in his capture. Gladiolus signed on for that clause. Had to. If he hadn’t, Ignis would’ve. And now that Noctis has actually stared capture in the face, a part of him is _glad_ of it—he’d rather have Gladiolus’ mark on his skin that some Magitek goon, Ravus or even the Chancellor. Better to let his heart—his soul—his heats—go to the grave with his shield. 

He shudders just from thinking about it. Gladiolus has settled next to him, presence large and warm, palpable even with half an arm’s length still between them. Noctis stares somewhere over Ignis’ shoulders, but Gladiolus’ hulking form still haunts his peripherals. It’s dark beneath the moon, but the Regalia’s headlights flare up.

The car pulls out. Everyone is quiet, aside from still panting for breath and the occasional groan of pain. They need a motel. They’re not in good enough shape to risk camping. Ignis drives faster than usual.

Noctis’ mind whirls, even though he wants it to _stop_ , because there was a moment, in amongst the raving chaos of the battle, where it really seemed like _they would lose_ , and he’d felt Gladiolus’ eyes along his neck. His body prickles just from thinking of it. His eyes close, and his brain conjures up the image: Gladiolus wrenching him out of the fray by one busy wrist, spinning him to trap him up against a rock, like they would do to hide while they recovered. Except there would be no rest, not for them, not anymore. Gladiolus would shove his thick leg between Noctis’ thighs, pinning him in place, lest his fervor try to jerk him free—he’d still be in the heat of battle. But Gladiolus would calm him with one heated gaze, nudge his face aside, and sink down into his throat like some feral beast with prey.

Noctis’ hands clench at his sides, though he’s not sure what from. The vivid daydream isn’t helping to slow his racing pulse. But he can’t stop imagining Gladiolus’ hot breath along his throat, tongue wet against his feverish skin, his mind and body trembling as it gave way to an alpha’s touch. Gladiolus would be duty-bound, insistent and dominant, claiming Noctis completely. Or maybe he would be tinged in guilt and regret, having to take his prince so brutally and ruggedly, when every omega dreams of a pleasant night with a lover in the privacy and comfort of a bed. Maybe Gladiolus would be _gentle_ , careful and sweet, to make his knees weak with as much pleasure as pain.

Or maybe it would be different still, and Noctis would be the one to see they had no hope. Maybe he’d have to warp right into Gladiolus’ broad chest, knock him down and beg to be taken _then and there_ , fast and hard, before the MT’s could get their lifeless hands on him. Gladiolus would be shocked at first, then recover and obey.

A hand lands on Noctis’ knee. It draws him out of his reverie—he glances down at it, and it squeezes reassuringly. It gets his attention. He looks up through the darkness and hopes his cheeks aren’t flushed.

Gladiolus mutters, too low for the front seat to hear, “I’m sorry.”

Noctis swallows. He knows what Gladiolus means, and he croaks, “S’alright. You should do what you have to.” Gladiolus’ eyes glint—he doesn’t look so sure.

He opens his mouth, but Noctis steels over, ordering just: “Do it.” 

Gladiolus’ mouth closes. He gives Noctis a long, steady look, then slowly sweeps his eyes over Noctis’ face, searching, maybe understanding. Finally, he nods. Then he withdraws his hand and turns away, slumping back without even his book.

Noctis looks back out into the night and hopes the wind will cool him down.


End file.
